A Stain Tide Couldn't Handle
by americalovesthecockpit
Summary: England has a confession for America. A very bizarre one that America thinks is a joke. But for England it is TOTAL DRAMA. This fic is PURE CRACK and labeled drama for the lulz.


I wrote this a little while back for the Livejournal USUK community writing anthology. It's out now so I can post my fic here. For once I wrote something not M-rated! But it's plenty cracky.

Special thanks to my beta wt-chan!

Also the awesome RabbitL drew a pic to accompany this in the anthology! Check it out! (remove the spaces) wabbit - l. tumblr image 37266563984

X

America sipped from the tiny teacup. He made sure to stick his pinky out — that was fancy, after all. No, wait. Just then he remembered that England had once told him that sticking one's pinky out was actually the _incorrect_ way to enjoy a '_proper cuppa_.'

"Oops."

Spilling one's tea on a fancy tablecloth was also improper.

America watched it seep into the cloth. He'd accidentally knocked it over while placing it back on the table.

"My bad, haha."

England surprisingly didn't seem to mind. His thoughts were elsewhere. He stared very intensely at his own cup, nervously tapping his fingers on it. He hadn't taken one sip.

Which was strange. Because England had asked America to fly all the way over from his home just to have tea and crumpets with him. They were in his garden, sitting on a small patio. There England had his antique table and chairs, with the same teacups and saucers he'd used for decades. America should be honored — England had brought out the _good_ teacups and saucers. The kind that America had seen only in England's very old, wooden cabinet inside the house. It was like a scene out of 'Alice and Wonderland,' where like the Mad Hatter he could entertain friends with afternoon tea. If he actually had friends, that is. England called that Splendid Isolation.

"So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?" asked America, rubbing the stain with his shirt sleeve.

England took a moment to reply. After a deep breath he said, "This isn't easy to say. But I have to confess something to you."

"Yeah?" Now both America's sleeve _and _the tablecloth were stained. He was quite relieved that England didn't seem to mind. America remembered one time while trying to show England how to Dougie even though England didn't ask him to, America spilled his Mountain Dew on England's very old, ornate, Victorian rug. That time, England was not very amused. "What is it?" asked America.

England sighed. "Christ, I don't even know where to begin …"

"Aw, come on, dude," said America, smiling to cheer England up and also because now he didn't have to drink that tea because he spilled it. "You can tell me anything!"

"I know, it's just …" England trailed off for a moment, trying not to let his voice hitch before finishing, "… d-difficult."

"Dude, I'm your boyfriend!" America took a bite of a crumpet. "There's no secrets between lovers!" He quickly set the crumpet back down.

"Yes, I know …"

"So tell me already!"

England took a deep breath. "I have a secret. It's been going on for some time now, and now I feel I'm so far into it there is no way out. And b-before I go any further, I should preface this by saying that I hope you don't think of me any differently."

"Oh, of course not!" said America, faking a smile because England had poured him another cup and he didn't particularly want more.

"Please don't think less of me once you hear what I'm going to tell you."

"Psssh! Dude, you're worrying for nothing."

England was back to staring at his now cooled tea. "It is not the kind of thing one speaks about in normal, polite company."

Which was fine with America, because now he could discretely reach his arm under the table and pour his tea on the ground. "Uh huh …"

"I don't want you to think I'm dirty."

"Hey, look!" America held up the empty tea cup. "All gone! I actually drank it. Yaaay for me — wait a minute. Did you say _'dirty'?"_

"Yes."

"Uhh …"

"Would you like another cuppa?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" said America, a little frantic. "Just what kind of secret is this? !"

"Pour my tea on the ground one more time and I'll make you drink the whole kettle, love."

"Whaaa!" exclaimed America. "How'd you see that? Wait — don't change the subject! I'm like legit worried now. What's the secret?"

"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have burdened you with my problem," sighed England. "And I didn't have to _see _you pour it, I _heard_ you pour it. The noise was either you wasting my Darjeeling or taking a piss under the table, and I have informed you before that undoing your trousers during tea time is improper manners, so I assumed it was the former."

America remembered that time England had told him unzipping one's pants at the table was improper. He was just feeling frisky and wanted to try something new. But England had turned him down, as that was not the proper way to butter one's scone. Instead they had their fun on England's antique early 1900's Chesterfield couch.

"Good times, good times," America mused out loud, fondly remembering that day. But then he took this seriously. "Look, don't feel like you're burdening me. I like being burdened. Because then I can fix the burden and be a hero and be cool." America flashed England a bright smile. "I like being cool."

England suddenly stood up. "Very well then."

America stood up, too. "Um, where are we going?"

England began walking toward the house. "Articulate as I am, I don't think my words can aptly describe this. I believe it's best that I _show_ you instead."

America quickly scampered to catch up to him. "Uh, you might wanna Tide-To-Go Stick that stain before it sets," America said, pointing behind them.

"I'm hardly worried about one stain, America."

They were in the backyard, but they didn't use the backdoor. England made them walk all the way around to the front of his house. They climbed the steps and reached the top of the stoop. England's hand gripped the doorknob, but then he paused.

"When you see," he started nervously, "remember what I told you."

America was confused, but nodded.

England took a deep breath, and opened the door. He led the way, America tentatively on his heels. They walked through the foyer into the living room. There England stopped and sighed heavily.

England turned to face America. His hands were shaking. "Th-there. Now you know."

America glanced around. It occurred to him that it had been quite a while since he'd been in England's house. They always met at America's house, or got together at various world meetings, or just used the phone because England never did really learn how to Skype.

But nothing seemed different to America. After a glance around, he saw everything he remembered since the last time, in the exact same places. All the old things America had teased England about. '_Such an old person house, haha,'_ he'd teased. _'Smells like it, too.'_ There was the old wooden cabinet for the cups and saucers America remembered. And the fancy Victorian rug that he could only barely see a Mountain Dew stain on. And of course, that old couch that America remembered having good times, good times on.

But if nothing was different, why was England standing there in the middle of the room _trembling?_ He nervously rubbed his hands together, his face tinted pink in shame, as he refused to look America in the eye.

America just stared back, very confused.

"I don't see what's so weird?" he said, shrugging. "Everything looks normal to me. The same old person house I always remembered! You should give me a Werther's candy like in the commercials, haha!"

Suddenly, England dropped to his knees.

"Hehe, you get it? Because in the commercials, an old guy gives the kids the candy? The joke is that you're old, if you didn't get — whoa, dude! What's wrong? !"

In the middle of his rambling, America realized England was kneeling before him, crying.

"Whoa, dude, I'm sorry!" said America, panicking. "I didn't mean those old person jokes! I was just trying to be funny! I take them all back! The ones about you having an old man smell which is like mothballs and lotion in case you didn't know, and yelling at those blasted kids in your yard, the ones about using Viagra—"

"America …"

"I take them all back!" America sobbed.

"I'm not upset about your bloody jokes!" said England, wiping away a tear. "I'm upset about … _this._" He gestured to the room around him.

"I was just kidding with the old jokes, but maybe you really do need an institution!" said America, his eyes darting around a very normal, albeit outdated home. "You clearly have gone senile. Or crazy — whatever. Something insane in the membrane."

America went to sit on the couch, but England quickly stood and grabbed him by the arm.

"No, don't!" England exclaimed. "You can't sit there!"

"Huh? Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? !"

"Um, no." So he sat on the couch anyway.

England gasped. "My God, America! What the hell is wrong with you? ! Didn't you see that couch? !"

"Pssh, so you have an ugly couch. All your stuff is old and ugly. It's okay. I don't mind! I didn't fall in love with you for your furniture," said America with a wink.

England looked horrified. But not because his furniture was insulted. "Y-y-you have to get off!"

"Look," started America, a big smile on his face as he hopped off the couch. "I know your place could really use a makeover. But it's nothing to cry about! I can help you redecorate and make this place fab-u-LOUS!"

England stared back at him. And stared and stared and stared. It was awkward and America wondered if maybe England was just cranky and needed a nap because old people get up really early. But then finally England said, "Oh … right. How could I forget you're impure?"

"Huh? No, I'm not. I always use a con—"

"A-America," started England, falling back to his knees. "I forgot you can't see it. But I have fairies. And unicorns."

America rolled his eyes. "Ohhh, here we go."

"A-and while it started off as just a couple …" continued England, looking down at his hands in his lap, "… I just loved them _so much._ So I had to have more. So I did — I found more, I bought more, I bred more — I acquired them any way I could. I couldn't stop. I felt like they needed me and I needed them. This went on for quite some time and before I knew it, I was overwhelmed. I lost count. I don't even know how many I have now. And they all live in here in my house. It's too much … I-I can't …"

England fell the rest of the way to the floor, burying his face in his hands, crying softly.

America stared down at him. "… the fresh hell?"

"There must at least two hundred of them in total!" said England in between sniffles. "I can't take it anymore! There's just too many of them! They've taken over my house!"

America looked around the room again, but still saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Umm …"

England sat up, throwing his arms up in the air. "Look at this! There's one everywhere you look! My rugs and furniture soaked through with urine! Piles and piles of FAIRY AND UNICORN SHIT!"

"Uh …"

"I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!" sobbed England.

And yet, America just stood there, seeing none of that. He had an excellent poker face for about ten seconds as he watched England weep. Then he lost it.

"Pffftccchpfft," snickered America. "Oh my, God, dude. I've heard of this. It's like that show on Animal Planet where people hoard animals! Some of them got like a hundred dogs or cats in their house and they just completely take over. Except instead of like actual factual animals, you think you have it with imaginary ones. That's hilarious, haha!"

England didn't move from his spot on the floor.

"That was a good show," said America, oblivious.

When England just kept softly weeping on the floor, America finally started to worry. It was sinking in that England didn't usually cry that much. He did cry on occasion, but only for very serious issues — like when America called England 'big brother' for the first time or Revolutionary war drama, but not for something unimportant (also _not_ during sex like Japan seems to think judging from his doujins, but that's a different story.)

America knew England wouldn't cry over something silly.

"Oh my gosh," started America. "This really is upsetting you, huh?"

England nodded, keeping his gaze at the floor.

"Well, jeez! Don't cry! I thought you were just messing with me or something!" America offered his hand. "Come on, get up! I can fix this."

England stared at America's hand. "How?"

"Hmm ..." America thought hard. But then he gave up because thinking is really hard, and just took the easy way out. "Uh … _I'll _take them? Y-yeah! I'll take them!"

"You?" scoffed England.

"Pssh, yeah me! I'll take them off your hands and find them good homes so they can live — pfffchhhpfft," America couldn't help but snicker, "— happily ever after. Uh, yeah. That sounds good."

England tentatively took America's hand. "Are you sure you can? It won't be an easy task."

"Puh-LEASE!" America pulled England to his feet. "Dude, I got this. When this trip is over I'll take them all back with me and you'll have an empty, clean house." He paused. "Uh, once you clean it and all."

"Oh …"

"What's wrong? Aw, jeez, please don't make me pretend to clean up unicorn poop—"

"No, it's not that. It's just, once you take them all, I'm going to be lonely …"

"Once _they're_ gone? !"

"Oh, and you too, I suppose."

"Aww," pouted America. "I'm jelly you're gonna miss them more than me. But don't worry about being lonely! I'll leave you a couple of them. Just a couple! And you have to promise not to get any more and you must get the ones you have left spayed or neutered, okay?"

England breathed a sigh of relief. "All right. That does sound better."

"And if you're still lonely, we'll try using Skype again, and _I'll _keep you company, hehe."

"Cheeky," England scolded playfully.

"IF YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN."

"Yes, America, I understood what you meant—"

"Good because I meant webcam sex."

Three days later, America pretended to herd an invisible menagerie of fairies and unicorns out the door with him. He kept snickering the whole time, but hid it from England because he knew how upset England was and heroes don't laugh it up while their boyfriend tries to pretend he's not about to cry.

"That one's Twinkles, and that one is Fluffles," said England, his eyes following the air as if something were moving. "Twinkles is prone to motion sickness — you may want to bring some paper towels. And Fluffles is allergic to nuts, so don't let him have any airplane peanuts! Oh, and that one is Marzipan, he is diabetic, he needs medication every two hours—"

"Jesus," muttered America. "Uh, I mean, don't worry, England! I told you I got this! All your little fairy friends will be well taken care of. I'll even pay the extra fee for them to get headphones on the plane because I'm a nice guy like that. Scouts honor!" Then America accidentally did the Vulcan sign from 'Star Trek' instead of the Boy Scouts sign.

When England decided all his friends were out the door, he and America said their goodbyes, kissed, and that was that.

The second America closed the door behind him, all he could say was, "WOW."

'_I did the right thing, right?_' he mused to himself. '_I humored him so now he feels better. It was the only logical thing to do. Or am I an enabler for pretending his problem was real? Nah, he seemed happier, so I must have done the right thing by pretending to help.'_

And then America decided to never think of that weird trip again.

X

Six months later, England showed up at America's New York City apartment unannounced.

"Whoa, hey!" America said brightly when he answered the door. "I didn't know you were coming! I thought you were Domino's but hey even better!"

"Sorry, I should have called," said England. "But my boss gave me a few days of holiday last minute, and I thought I would come visit."

"Cool beans!" America opened the door. "Come on in! Haha, sorry, if I'd have known you were coming I would have tidied up a little and put on something a little sexier than a Snuggie."

"America!" scolded England gruffly, looking around the tiny apartment.

"Whaaat? It's not _that_ bad! So I got some clothes laying around and dishes piling in the sink and dropped raisins on the floor that were originally grapes when I dropped them. It's not that big a deal."

"THERE IS FAIRY AND UNICORN SHIT AND PISS ALL OVER YOUR APARTMENT!"

"… what?"

"Christ, this place is crawling with magical creatures! There's even more than I had six months ago! You've let them breed! You didn't spay or neuter them! And you haven't found a home for a single one of them!"

America put on his best poker face. "Uh …"

England sighed. "Come. We have work to do. We need to start taking out ads in papers, making up posters, contacting everyone we know to help find homes for all these poor creatures. And we shall not stop until every single one is adopted!"

"Gee, England," pouted America. "That sounds like a lot of work."

"You better do it or I'll neuter _you._"

And America worked very diligently until every one of them found a loving home.

(The end!)


End file.
